


like a force to be reckoned with

by fideliter



Series: kinktober 2018 [2]
Category: Far Cry (Video Games), Far Cry 5
Genre: Kinktober 2018, Other, Second person POV, begging (kind of..... in a vague sort of way), deputy as reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-07-24 23:38:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16185587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fideliter/pseuds/fideliter
Summary: You weren't above begging.





	like a force to be reckoned with

The night is long and dark.

Screams and howls — human and canine alike — fill the air, a palpable misery that you can feel, right down to your bones. It hangs thick in the air like a fog, oncoming rain set to rattle the cage. Despite the rust and wear these cages, your cage, are sturdier than they appear. It’ll take more than a storm to bring them down.

You need something stronger than a storm, but all you have is a song.

Bits and pieces of it come drifting in on the wind, echoes of the days torture. It leaves your memory with big, gaping holes — nothing left behind but the stench of blood, the weight of pistol in your hand, the ridiculous, overwhelming need to be good. For him. You need to to prove that you’re strong, strong enough for the collapse when it comes.

The training comes and goes, Jacob comes and goes. The cage is the only constant.

The cage — and the screams.

Your lips are dry and cracked and the night is full of stars when Jacob appears next, walking down the aisle between the cages with steady, even steps. His boots make a muffled noise in the dirt but still you press closer to the bars, almost ignoring the knife-sharp hunger pains in your stomach. Nothing else matters right now, besides him. You know better, but you weren’t above begging, not after yet another day of no food.

It’s obvious now: the Resistance isn’t coming. The Whitetails, they’ve left you here to rot, and it’s time to save yourself.

Or, well, try.

Jacob seems surprised as you call out to him, diverting from his course to stand a foot or so away from where you kneel, pressed up against the bars like an animal at the zoo. You probably look like it, too, if Jacob’s almost amused expression is anything to go by. It’s not the first time he’s heard this, but it is the first time he’s heard it from you.

“Please,” you plead, eyes wide and desperate. The world’s a little blurry at the edges, but it’s easy enough to focus on him. On those eyes. “— please, Jacob, I’ll do anything, just —”

“Just what, pup?” He arches a brow, gaze sweeping over your broken frame with a pointed jerk of his chin. A nonchalant look, amongst the smoke and carnage. What did you have to offer him in the state you’re in?

Your knuckles are white with how hard you grip the bars, squeezing them as you lean forward. Jacob isn’t either of his brothers: he isn’t a man easily swayed by his faith, nor by the finer things in life. He isn’t his sister, lost inside her own bliss. You don’t even know him, but you need out.

“Anything. Whatever you want, whatever you need from me. P-please, Jacob, let me prove myself.”

Maybe there’s a full moon, maybe there’s something in the Bliss. But he tilts his head like he’s considering, shifting his weight where he stands. Big and imposing, sturdy just like these cages of his. The sight of it — him — makes your mouth water, in a way that certainly isn’t related to the dehydration.

Finally, suddenly, Jacob grins like knives. He undoes the lock to your cage with one hand and unbuttons his hands with the other.

You _weren’t_ above begging.


End file.
